America's Best Plan Ever
by curious marionette
Summary: America reveals his latest plan to England, which naturally would lead to both of them hiding in the bushes outside of Germany's house. Poor England... GermanyxNorthernItaly ensues.


America's Best Plan Ever

"You can't be serious."

He was standing in the middle of an airplane hanger in the middle of a cornfield in the middle of Iowa, with that idiot beaming at him stupidly and pointing to the gratuitously large and bloated missile that loomed over their heads. It was painted with a glorious and boastful design: red, white and blue stripes and the image of a screaming eagle stomping the head off of a writhing snake. Very patriotic. That much he expected from his former ward. But the thing that England couldn't quite wrap his head around was the _name_ of the bomb, shining proudly on its surface in huge gold letters.

As he spoke, he heard his own echo bounce around the room and ring off the glossy metal, searching for any hint of logic that America might have stored away all these years. "…A '_Gay_ _Bomb_?'"

America flashed his winning smile while England looked on, speechless. "It's super-effective. The fallout is mostly non-lethal, too! Allow me to demonstrate." He adjusted his glasses and pressed a glowing red button on a very small remote control and the entire room started to quake.

"WAIT! Are you _mad_!? Don't activate it _here_!!" England panicked as the missile made beeping sounds and started to emit a greenish smoke. America made a frowny face and pressed another button. The lights stopped swinging from the ceiling and the missile stopped moving so England figured after a few moments that it was alright to breathe again.

"But I want to show you how it works." America's shoulders were slumped.

"You git! You could've killed us! Don't you have a testing facility for this sort of thing?"

America cocked his head, looking blank.

"…'The Fifty-first Area' or whatever you call it?" England sighed in exasperation, trying to recover his composure.

"You don't know anything about subtlety, do you?" America suddenly accused. "_Everyone_ knows about Area 51! But nobody- _nobody_- comes to Iowa." England could not find the energy to point out the subtle, splendiferous explosive that was still steaming a few feet away. "I have full confidence in this operation. It's been treated as high security, top priority!"

"Ah… And tell me, what do you plan to do with it?" England asked. He received a look as if he had no brains at all.

"_Obviously_, I'm going to turn the enemy into raging homosexuals."

"Ah."

"They'll be in chaos!"

England choked on a laugh.

"What?" America demanded, his grin vanished. "Don't you see the pure brilliance of my plan?"

"I think you just want to see the whole world get it on, is what-"

"Wh-H-Hey-!"

"-have _steamy relations _with other men, live out your secret fantasies-"

"Shut up! It- It's a genius plan! I'll prove it!"

And so it came to pass that America and England were crouched in the bushes outside of Germany's bedroom window.

"When this works on Germany, you'll have no choice but to believe me!"

Their test subject was in bed now, reading a novel, unsuspecting.

"Geeeeeermany!!!"

The two in the bushes ducked out of sight as Italy pranced into the room, wearing nothing but his nightshirt, flapping in the wind.

"I don't think your bomb will have any effect…" England snickered. America shushed him.

"Ve, Germany, Germany! Let me sleep with you tonight…!" The brunet was whining, clambering across the sheets and clinging to the larger, irritated man.

"I already told you, Feliciano, men do not share beds."

"Wahhhhhh-!"

"Why do you even bother to ask me? You always sneak in here anyway once I'm asleep…" Germany had abandoned his book, trying to fight the Italian off of him with his mighty German will.

Outside the window, America gave an evil cackle, "Time for Justice to punish those who stand in its way…" England backed away slowly as his ally pushed the button. There was an unnatural flash that turned the night sky orange. With a loud crash, Germany's house shook as if it were experiencing an earthquake.

"Thunder!!!!" Italy squealed, jumping into his comrade's arms, "Germany, protect me!"

"It's okay, it's okay," Ludwig soothed, patting him on the back in such an awkward and hesitant way that it was painful to watch. The smaller, sniffling figure buried his face into the warm flannel shirt. There was a moment of peace and comfort, and then, "For God's sake, Italy… would you please cover yourself up? You're going to send the wrong message…"

"…What message is that?" Italy cooed innocently as he was pushed backwards onto the bed.

"Er… Well I mean to say that people are going to take advantage of you…"

"It's okay," Italy assured him in a sing-song voice, playing with the hem of his sleeve, "I trust Germany."

"That's not what I mean-" Germany suppressed the desire to smack himself in the forehead.

"I don't get it." America was getting frustrated. "This is how they always act. Nothing's changed! They should be groping all over each other by now…!"

"I'd give it another moment." England gestured to the window.

"Germany, I'm scarrrrred… _Please_ let me stay here tonight!"

"…Fine. But no singing. Go straight to sleep."

"Yay!!! I like sleeping with Germany! Germany is so soft and nice to cuddle!" He wrapped his arms around his flustered teddy bear, who seemed to be struggling with how to respond. "I feel safe. And even if Germany doesn't like me… I still… like him…" Germany wasn't the only one who snapped to attention at these words. America was nearly foaming at the mouth. Italy's head was bowed, his cheeks were burning a rosy color.

"I… I don't dislike you." Germany said, "I don't mind it if you sleep here… sometimes."

"Really?" The Italian's eyes brightened. He scooted closer across the bed, perhaps in what he thought was a stealthy way and slipped his arms around Ludwig's neck. "Really, really, really?"

"Yes." Germany interjected before there could be any more 'really's. He glanced down at Italy's arms from the corner of his eye. "What are you doing?"

"Giving Germany a kiss." Before he could protest, Germany's lips were stolen. It wasn't unusual for the Italian to kiss him, but this was…different. There was more firmness in it, though even in his dizzy state, Germany could sense the other man was hesitant. Italy was still soft and gentle…and- and _kissing him_!

'_This fool doesn't even know what he does to me…'_ With difficulty, Ludwig pulled away from his oblivious ally, his chest heaving rapidly. The expression he saw on the brunet's face confused him, and tore through his heart like a bullet. Those big bright eyes were starting to get wet…

"I- j-just- want- to stay- w-with Germany-" He started to sob, wiping pointlessly at his face with his pajama shirt. Why was he always so loud?

"Shh… Come here." Germany looped his arms around the crying child and tugged him close. He closed his eyes and pressed a careful kiss onto Italy's lips, tasting salt. Italy hiccupped into the kiss but stopped crying… and clutched onto Germany's shirt… and looped his fingers through Germany's hair…and crawled into Germany's lap…

Innocence or not, there was no way Ludwig could keep himself off of Feliciano now… His resistance melted away. He ran rough hands over Italy's smooth chest, the inside of his thigh, heard him gasped a little, and found himself wondering just how loud Italy could be… With a heat in his face that turned even his ears red, Germany coaxed his fragile ally down into the sheets.

"Ah- Germany- not there…" Italy pleaded breathlessly as the other man wrapped that curious little curl around his finger. Germany let it go reluctantly, seeing how it affected the Italian. He stared down into Feliciano's face, daring himself to make another move.

"…Do you really trust me?" He asked, a bit hoarse. Italy nodded, flushed and still teary-eyed, looking as if he might faint from the pressure of Germany's hips against his own. With no need for further questioning, Ludwig proceeded to do his best to make Italy pant and beg. After all, the most fun was when Italy called out to him for help…

Meanwhile…

"Behold, Justice at work!"

"I'd rather not behold it…"

Unfortunately, in the tests that followed, America was at a loss for why his bomb repeatedly failed to function. So the brilliant plan was scrapped.

* * *

_Based on historical truth. Isn't America's military the greatest?_


End file.
